Stay safe, this is the only thing I am asking
by robinishere
Summary: "Please, you can't do this-" "Trust me." Things turned out unexpectedly when Clint went on a mission and life is hanging on the balance. Phil could do nothing but to stand hopelessly by the side. Reviews please.
1. 1 Please

**Okay, i think i'm crazy as i like to read Clint-angst fics. Does anybody know why? Oh, forget it, even i, myself don't even know. This story is different from my previous story ' everything will be alright, i promise,' (I'll update soon) and will be only be at most 3 chapters long... i think. i guess it depends. i may even end it with the next chapter. **

**I think that Clint and coulson pairings are just too adorable to ignore. **

**Please**

_Hushed panting echoed through the empty corridors. _

_Rushed footsteps only had one destination in mind. _

It was in the middle of the night and except for a few patrolling agents, no one saw the slim but fit figure blurred by. Even if anyone saw the figure's face, they would think that they were dreaming.

As rarely anyone saw any emotions on Phil Coulson's face. He was always calm and controlled, even if the whole sky was collapsing; his face would not betray any emotions.

But now, fear and panic was clear in his eyes as he bit his lips. His heart was beating so fast he thought that it would just stop. His knees and ankles ached from running through the whole of the helicarrier. Not to mention that he didn't had any sleep for the last thirty hours.

The reason was simple.

Agent Clint Barton was on a mission.

The mission was simple enough. SHIELD had suspected a group of terrorists involved in illegal bomb making and had wanted Clint to observe them for only twenty two hours and to come back and report. Well, if you are so obsessed in 'making the world right', you won't even leave stop what you are doing for five minutes.

Phil had watched Clint did a mock salute and the door closed behind his back. Nick had assured him that he would be back soon, but he couldn't just ignore the worry gnawing at his heart. At least if Natasha was with him, Phil would feel better, but he can't just pull Natasha out from her own mission in China with another agent for his personal reasons.

He did the only thing he could; he listened and made sure that Clint reported in every ten minutes.

However, fate was a bitch when Clint realized that they will be denoting the bomb in half an hour.

Phil had immediately called for back-up, but it was fruitless.

"_No, there isn't enough time. They are heading to their destination."_

"_No. Please. You can't do this. Back up is already on their way-"_

"Phil. Trust me. I can lure them to the jungle. They activated the bomb already. "The slight unevenness in his breath told him that he was already in action.

"And how exactly are you going to do that?" Phil could not keep the exasperation out of his voice.

"They are travelling in trucks and if I can get to the truck with the bomb…."

"Are you serious? I am totally not assuming that they are only dispatching the truck with the bomb in it."

"Yes. There is one helicopter and at least ten trucks following."

"Barton!" Phil groaned.

"I can do it. Phil, please."

"Clint!"

"Look I really need to go, they are coming."

"Please, Clint. You still can wait for back up-"

"I can't wait for back up. And Phil, I'm in Africa. Do you know how long the fastest jet is going to take?"

"Forty minutes?"

"I only have less than twenty five minutes. I really need to go. Barton-"

"Clint!" Phil shrieked into the inter comm, the other agents were too busy dispatching the back up to notice the change of behavior in their normally composed agent.

"Phil-"

"Fine! But please… " There was a moment was silence, "Stay safe."

He could hear the smirk in his voice, "I will, Phil. Barton out."

The waiting was _agonizing._

Finally, he received a response from the back up team.

"The bomb blew up! Do you hear? The bomb blew up."

"Are there survivors? Agent Barton, do you see him?" Phil barely managed to keep his voice steady.

There were sounds of coughing and rustlings. "We need to extinguish the fire first. The smoke is too thick. "

"Report your location."

"Agent Barton managed to drive into the jungle. I can't see or hear any moving vehicles. We need a firefighter team here. If not the survivors may suffocate to death."

"They are already on their way."

* * *

**I don't know how long it takes to go to Africa... Heck, i didn't even go to Africa and i'm a Singaporean who only went to Malaysia over the holidays. So forgive me if i get the facts wrong. I'm also not sure how they should talk over the inter comm, so yep...**

**Do you like it? Reviews?**


	2. 2 Trigger

**Hope that you'll like this chapter! There would be a last chapter coming up (soon) I really like this song, Rihanna- Russian Roulette, though it's kind of old now. But i totally can't get it out of my head. I have been trying to write stories of a different format so i came up with this. :)**

**Trigger**

_Take a breath, take it deep  
Calm yourself, he says to me  
If you play, you play for keeps  
Take the gun, and count to three  
I'm sweating now, moving slow  
No time to think, my turn to go_

Phil crashed through the doors of the emergency room unceremoniously, his fast reflexes saving him from colliding into another person. It was then he realized how crowded the room was.

The medical team was about, rushing across the room, walkie talkie pressed to their ears, mouth moving rapidly. The beeping of machines, rustling of papers, shoes pounding against white polished tiles, the squeaking of wheels assaulted Phil's ears.

Everyone, everything was in constant motion.

_All except him_.

He felt lost.

"Excuse me." He barely heard it before he was none to gently pushed aside and he nearly stumbled. It was a push that seemed to jerk him back to reality. He was a high ranking officer. He can't just lose his form just like that.

Not now.

He straightened himself and slid his raging emotions behind his calm façade. He strode confidently to the counter where the nurses were speaking to the phone.

"Excuse me."

"Wait- Agent Coulson!" the nurse flustered, lowering the phone almost immediately.

"I'm here to find Agent Barton, would you kindly tell me where he is? He should be admitted a while ago."

"Of-of course."

She handed the phone to another nurse before her fingers danced across the keyboard.

"Sir, there are no records of him being checked into a room. The latest record was three weeks ago when he received a gun wound in his thigh. Perhaps he is still being treated." She frowned, gesturing to the back of room where the beds are separated by lines of curtains.

Phil glanced to the back; most of the curtains were drawn.

"I was informed that he arrived about an hour ago…?" He raised an eyebrow.

The nurse turned red and she swallowed audibly, "Erm… we've just recovered quite a number of patients from the explosion site and it may take a while before all the patients are registered. As there aren't enough rooms for all of them, sometimes the less severe patients are allowed to retire to their own bunks and rooms instead. Have you checked if he has returned to his room?"

Phil sighed, "Alright. Thank you for your help."

With a swift turn of his heel, he left the emergency room.

_And you can see my heart, beating  
You can see it through my chest  
Said I'm terrified but I'm not leaving  
I know that I must pass this test  
So just pull the trigger_

He clenched his fists and started his way to Clint's room. He was relieved that Clint wasn't the 'severe' patient, but his heart kept twisting up.

It started out as a walk but he was getting desperate until he was in full sprint mode only abruptly slowing down when he neared other agents.

His legs threatened to give out as he gritted his teeth tightly, not wanting to feel how it trembled inside his jaws. He had never felt so desperate to see him.

_What had changed?_

He has handled many agents before Clint and had seen Clint recover from many injuries. Even those that sent him just right in front of doors of death. But now, Clint injuries don't seem too serious and why was he acting as if Clint is dying?

Is it because of how reckless he was?

Is it because he knew how Clint will protect others, letting himself be injured and bloody rather than his subordinates?

Is it because he knew how Clint would treat broken ribs and gun wounds as scratches?

_As my life flashes before my eyes  
I'm wondering will I, ever see another sunrise?  
So many won't get the chance to say goodbye  
But it's too late to think of the value of my life_

He turned a corner and-

_There_.

His back was facing him. His body hunched a little as a hobbled along on crutches. His sandy blonde hair smudged with debris, dirt and blood. His outfit was in the same state as well.

He right leg was in a knee deep cast and Phil could see the way his limbs tremble as he took one slow step after another.

Phil's heart hurt.

_A lot._

He cursed the medical tem for not giving Clint a wheel chair.

He cursed Clint for not waiting for him.

He looked like he would collapse on the ground any second. And Phil was just looking at his back view.

He took a deep breath, easily catching up with the exhausted archer and in one swift motion; he had Clint in his arms. His hands holding onto the pair of crutches.

" What the fuck, Phil? Let go!"

"Stop struggling, you may hurt yourself even more." He would dance on the spot to hear Clint curse at him, never breaking his stride.

"I still can walk!" Clint scowled, "Let go! I'll dirty your suit! Don't I smell? There will be people who will see us!"

"For your information, I have thousands of suits in my cupboard and no, you smell yourself, vanilla. And really, Clint, do you think there will be agents who are that clear minded to think that "That's Agent Coulson and Barton together!" now that it is two am in the morning? "

Clint's cheeks turned a light shade of pink, "Yeah right." He snorted; at least he had stopped struggling.

"Just relax. I've got you. Just let it go."

Clint rested his head on Phil's broad chest, inhaling the warm scent that is uniquely him. The comforting rhythm of Phil's strides calmed him.

"A lot of people died today." Clint's voice was a whisper. His voice so broken, so fragile.

"A lot more would have died."

"But if I had been faster, the town near by wouldn't even be affected."

"If you have been faster, I wouldn't even be carrying you like this. I won't even be seeing you anymore."

"Phil…."

Clint's hand clutched Phil's shirt, crumbling it. Phil could not see his lover's face.

"Hey, hey Clint?" Phil stopped walking.

"You've done well. Really. If it weren't for you, the terrorists would not be arrested. They would have successfully hurt and killed a million more people and they would be still hurt a lot more. So don't think about it anymore, okay? You had done your job and you had done it well. So now, just lean on me, let me support you. Just let it go."

Clint's arm wrapped around his neck in response and Phil tried to ignore the wet spot that is growing on his shirt.

He placed a light kiss on his head and tightened his grip on the archer and continued walking.

"_Phil…"_

That one word was enough for him.

_And you can see my heart, beating  
Oh oh you can see it through my chest  
Said I'm terrified, but I'm not leaving  
Know that I must pass this test  
And you can see my heart, beating  
Oh you can see it through my chest  
I'm terrified but I'm not leaving (no, no)  
Know that I must pass this test  
So just pull the trigger_

* * *

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	3. 3 Will

**So, this will be the last chapter and i hope that had enjoyed this story. Thanks a lot to a dear readers and those who had alerted and favourited this story. Thank you!**

**Will **

"Clint, Clint." The sound was annoyingly persistent. The said person groaned, his protest muffled by the soft pillow. The bed was just too comfortable, warm and safe. His eyes stubbornly refused to open as his brain told him that he needed more rest.

"Clint… Come on, you need to wake up. You have not eaten anything yesterday. Hey…"

The light shaking of his shoulders jarred him snatched him from the darkness and he was aware of the dip of the bed, the slight whirring of the heater, the warmth he was surrounded in…

"… A…. Whi-…hm…."

"What?"

Clint weakly raised five fingers and buried his head back, trying unsuccessfully to pull the covers.

"I don't get what you mean, but just wake up!" With a final authority, the covers were forcefully pulled away from him.

Phil expected him to shoot up and curse and swear at him. But Clint still laid there, pretty much dead to the world. He signed heavily; someday Clint will be death of him.

"Huh? You want to this? Fine. Don't blame me."

Clint smiled triumphantly at the receding footsteps and blindly searched for the covers, locating it with his keen senses and dropped lifelessly back into the bed.

However, less than a few seconds later, he shot up from the bed, clawing at his shirt. Strings after strings of colourful words burst out of his mouth as he tried to get the damm thing out of his shirt. Finally, after a few torturous seconds, when it had journeyed down his back, he caught it and flung in the direction of Phil.

"Seriously, ice? Phil, seriously?"

"Well, at least it worked. You woke up." He was unable to wipe the grin off his face as he strode across the room to fetch Clint's crutches, feeling the deathly glare of his lover moving with him.

"Ahaha! Congratulations!" He snatched the crutches from Phil and hobbled clumsily to the bathroom, still cursing Phil will lose one of his precious ties.

"The maid just came and washed the floor, be-"

_Too late. _

Phil felt as if everything was in slow motion. He saw Clint's crutches lost friction against the wet tiles and with a loud, "Squeak!" and he was falling.

Clint could barely believe himself. He, a master assassin and archer was getting injured yet again… by slipping.

_Nice. _

But there was nothing could be done as he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the impact that was rapidly coming. He couldn't breathe, his heart stuttered to a stop.

"Hmph!"

Instead of colliding onto the unforgiving floor, he met with another warm body and his momentum was too great to be halted.

"Ouch…"

"Phil? Are you injured?"

They ended up on the floor with Phil cushioning Clint's impact.

"Nah. I'm alright. I have tougher bones then you think."

"You sure?" After struggling onto his feet, Clint critical eyes gave Phil a-three-hundred-and-sixty-degrees check for any small bruises that had appeared from the fall.

"Yes. So… are you still angry at me?" Phil caught Clint's worried hands and leaned closer into him.

Clint looked away, slightly caught off guard. God, only Phil can get him surprised and blushing like a six year old girl.

"I- I guess. Don't think I can forgive you so easily! I'm not that generous but…" He gave Phil his famous smirk, "I think I can let go in planning to dye your ties bright purple."

With that, he slammed the door shut, missing Phil's horrified face.

"Next time, think before you try to do something against me, Clint Barton's will!"

"Dammit, Clint!" He pounded on the door, catching the sound of Clint's-not-so-innocent-laughter.

Oh, Clint _will be_ the death of him.

* * *

**The End~**


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